Don't Spare Me
by Kierielle Huntington
Summary: "Eugene," she said quietly. "You don't have to..." She took a breath and tried again. "Don't spare me the sob story." Rapunzel presses for Eugene's "Sob Story" - and he discovers secrets are meant to be shared. Oneshot.


_{Tangled belongs to Disney.}_

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"Well, a fake reputation is all a man has," Eugene teased.

Rapunzel giggled, and looked up into his eyes. His expression softened and his smile warmed, glowing in the firelight. For a long moment she didn't breathe, and she dared to believe he didn't either.

She felt so _safe_, like she could say anything to him.

"Eugene," she said quietly. "You don't have to…" She took a breath and tried again. "_Don't_ spare me the sob story."

"Ah, well," he shrugged. "It really's not worth your tears."

She scooted closer to him and laid her right hand on his left knee. He tilted his head to her - he seemed surprised at her touch. He didn't say anything for a few long moments, and Rapunzel wondered if she had pressed too hard. Why would he share anything with her anyway?

"Okay," he nodded finally.

Her heart jumped.

"But this time _I _need _you _to not freak out," he continued, standing up.

"Okay," she murmured.

He unclasped his vest, tugged it off, and threw it on the root where he had been sitting. He swallowed. He turned his back to her, and pulled off his white shirt over his head without pulling his arms out.

Rapunzel had to bite back a gasp.

From his shoulders to his waist were uncountable lines of long-healed, thin cuts. Scars that _had_ to have been left by a...a…

"Flogging," he stated flatly, keeping his back to her. "I've only ever been caught once. I was sixteen, so...they didn't hang me."

He stayed standing there, just breathing. His scars were softened by the gleam of the slowly-dimming, crackling fire, but it almost made them look...more tragic. But in another way, they were lovely. _Healed. _

Something warm fluttered in her chest. He trusted her with his obviously least favorite memory.

**...**

Flynn flipped his shirt back on with a smooth yank. He turned to face her. Her lovely green eyes had widened - he didn't know it was even _possible_ for her eyes to get bigger than they always were - but she hadn't turned away. He half-smiled.

She offered a small, sad little smile back.

He picked up his vest, and began to fasten it on as he sat down again beside her. "They told me if I got caught again, I _would_ hang. So I left town. Changed my name. Became the most wanted thief in the region. Came back to Corona in a couple years, and nobody remembered that kid from the orphanage who got flogged for thieving," he snickered, forcing an edge of humor back into his voice. He finished securing the hooks and looked up at her face. She was looking at him with _such _gentle interest.

He looked down, shrugging again. "So, yeah. Eugene kinda disappeared after that. And...he never thought of coming back till today."

He met her eyes.

Rapunzel smiled, and the sadness in her eyes dissolved. _But,_ he noted, _not the tenderness._

"I hate to be the one to break the news to you," she said, raising her eyebrows. "But...I think I saw Flynn Rider drown this afternoon."

He blinked. He certainly hadn't thought of it that way. But back there in the mine - when he had been sure they were going to die - was the first time he had said his own name out loud in...oh, maybe a decade.

Yes. Maybe she was right. Maybe Flynn Rider _had _drowned in the mine. The thought was, oddly enough, freeing_._

"You really think so?" he asked playfully, the words sounding lighter than they felt.

"I'm more and more sure by the minute," she said solemnly. Then she grinned.

It made him smile - a full, whole-hearted smile. Her smiles were _so_ contagious...and so beautiful...

"Ah, well…" he stood, almost awkwardly. "I, uh...I should probably go get some more firewood." He took a few reluctant steps, wondering at the strange new warmth in his chest.

"Hey," she called softly.

He flinched, though he didn't know why. He turned halfway to her, waiting.

"For the record," she said, almost shyly. "I like Eugene Fitzherbert _much_ better than Flynn Rider."

Those words touched a place in his nonchalant heart that had never before been touched.

"Well, you'd be the first," Eugene said, fingering his healed palm. "But thank you."

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